Fires in Los Angeles: “Everything is gone”

Professional chef Daron Anderson always tells people that he was “born in the kitchen” – literally.

The 45-year-old woman gave birth at home at 295 West Las Flores Drive, where he lived with his mother until this week.

On Thursday, he stepped over the charred debris where his kitchen once stood in Altadena, a tight-knit neighborhood in Northeast Los Angeles.

He searched for his cast-iron pans in the hope they had survived the blaze, one of several historic fires in the area that have killed at least 16 people, destroyed several communities and left thousands homeless.

Across the road – at number 296 – his friend Rachel’s house is also in ashes. The neighboring house – 281 – where he arranged family parties, is no longer there.

About three blocks away, on Devirian Place, where his girlfriend lived, some neighbors were trying to fight off the raging flames engulfing their homes with garden hoses.

Now they’re also searching for valuables in the rubble after a fire destroyed this entire community nestled in the shadow of the San Gabriel Mountains.

It all started on Tuesday night.

Santa Ana winds were strong most of the day.

Darron was in his yard just after 6:00 p.m. local time, trying to secure the items from flying away.

Across the street at 296 West Las Flores Drive, Rachel Gillespie was taking down her Christmas decorations, worried about her plastic icicles and patio furniture.

They exchanged worried looks. “It doesn’t look very good, does it?” – she noticed.

At that time, they were only worried about the wind.

They had no idea that one of the two worst wildfires in Los Angeles history had just broken out a few miles away, part of a days-long nightmare that is at its peak six fires while threatening America’s second largest city

The Eaton fire that engulfed Altadena has now ravaged more than 14,000 acres, destroying thousands of homes and businesses and killing 11 people. By the weekend, Eaton was down just 15%.

West of Los Angeles, the Palisades Fire, which started this morning, will burn more than 23,000 hectares, reducing much of the vibrant community into ashes, killing at least five people.

Daron’s neighbor at 281, Dylan Akers, was working at a donut shop in the Topanga Mall — about 40 miles away — when smoke began to fill their neighborhood.

The 20-year-old rushed back when he heard the news, only to find his corner of northwest Altadena a shambles as his family members frantically evacuated their home.

His uncle jumped over their white picket fence to save precious seconds, stuffing things into the back of his car.

For the next two hours, Dylan did the same, gathering food, medicine, clothing, and toiletries. In his haste, he lost his keys and spent 30 minutes searching in the smoky darkness with torches until he found them scattered over a fence.

During the desperate search, he kept telling himself that the local authorities would be able to handle the fire that thundered down the mountain toward the home he shared with his mother, grandmother, aunt and two younger cousins.

Dillon had encountered storms before and seen smoke in the mountains, but this time felt different. This time the orange glow in the sky was directly overhead.

“I was a 10 on the fear scale,” he said.

At 12:30 a.m. Wednesday, Dillon said he and his mother were the last people to leave West Las Flores Drive. They may have been the last to get out alive.

The next day, authorities announced that the remains of a neighbor had been found along the road.

Rachel and Daron left the neighborhood about two hours before Dylan. Rachel was pushed out by a friend who drove up demanding, “You have to leave now.”

Rachel – with her wife, toddler, five cats and two days’ worth of clothes – said goodbye to the house they bought just a year ago.

Darron also grabbed everything he could: a guitar he bought when he was 14 with money earned as an extra in a karate film, and a painting of his family crossing Abbey Road in London, made to look like the cover of the iconic Beatles album. .

As people on Las Flores Drive evacuated, Daron’s neighbors a few blocks away tried to fight the flames.

At 417 Devirian Place, Hipolito Cisneros and his close friend and neighbor, Larry Villeskas, who lived across the street at 416, grabbed garden hoses.

The scene outside looked hellish.

The garage of one house was on fire. The car in front of the other one too.

They extended hoses from several houses and doused the structures with water – including the house of Daron’s girlfriend, Sachi.

“The water was just pushed back. It didn’t even come in or anything,” Ippolito said, referring to the dry land and bushes around the houses.

As time went on, they made progress in lighting embers and discovering fires. Larry thought they could win.

Then their hoses dried up – all for a reason water pressure problems they would later learn that it was hampering firefighting efforts in Los Angeles County amid intense demand.

Nearby there was an explosion, another house was on fire. By 01:00 both their families were packing up.

“We tried. We really tried,” Ippolito said.

By 2:30 a.m. Wednesday, police cars rolled down their street with loudspeakers blaring, ordering everyone to leave immediately.

Rounding the corner of his street, Larry saw in his truck’s rear view mirror that his garage had caught fire.

By 03:00 the street was empty.

Much of the Los Angeles area is made up of neighborhoods and small communities, just like Altadena.

On any given morning, people would pass through the houses for a cup of coffee at The Little Red Hen, stopping to catch up on their morning commute.

Many described decades of close-knit community here, where they watched neighbors raise families and children who once played on the streets grow up.

But driving through this area for the first time since his world was turned upside down, Daron barely recognizes his surroundings.

The big blue house that marked one familiar turn is gone. All the landmarks that once guided him are gone. He points out each neighbor’s property, gasping as he realizes that no one is standing.

He takes pictures of his and Rachel’s house and the street he shares with Dylan. Outside his girlfriend’s house, which Larry and Hippolyta were trying to save, he takes a video and talks to their families before calling Sachi to describe the condition of her house.

“God, it’s all gone,” he says, his voice shaking.

But a few items remained among the ruins.

At his sister’s house on West Las Flores Drive, he finds colorful plastic lawn ornaments stuck in her lawn, somehow untouched by the fire.

He pulls each peg out of the ground, knowing that while these floral decorations may seem insignificant amidst the destruction, they might also make her smile.

Across the street from what was once his home, only a red brick chimney remained. There is a pile of earthenware around.

He picks up what he can with his soot-black hands, but many pieces fall apart at his touch.

A charred lemon tree stands on the lawn, some of the fruit still warm to the touch.

“If I can get the seed, we can transplant it,” he says, grabbing a handful.

“It’s like a way to start over.”